


A taste of what's to come? - Part 1

by EbonyMortisRose



Series: The story of Aubrey Jones [7]
Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Drugs, Guard of Priwen - Freeform, Swearing, Transformation, blood of king arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26928847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyMortisRose/pseuds/EbonyMortisRose
Summary: Aubrey realises he has to risk his own life for the very survival of The Guard of Priwen.They are the shield of king Arthur, descendants of a noble cause. So surely their patrons' blood can only bring great benefits to those brave enough to drink it...right?
Series: The story of Aubrey Jones [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836406
Kudos: 3





	A taste of what's to come? - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> “I feel so powerful it gives me shivers” - Geoffrey McCullum

“Cor, what is that smell?” - Leroy gasps, whilst waving his hook hand in front of his face and wrinkling up his nose.  
But the poor lad can’t stop the acrid odour assaulting his senses, as his other hand is occupied, holding a rather full hessian sack.  
And Aubrey watches with increasing alarm as the young man, in his effort to waft away the smell begins to swing that bag about, narrowly missing knocking over a nearby pot, that was bubbling away on a stove.  
  
“Ahhh! Master Jenkins! If that is the Saltpeter I requested, might I suggest stepping away from the naked flames!” 

His concerned voice came out muffled, due to the fact he had adopted to wearing a gas mask, during this vital stage of his experiments.  
And he doesn't wait for the young man to hand over the sack, but instead quickly snatches it from him; before they are all blown to high heaven. Then, peering inside, he was happy to see he had obtained everything he had asked for.  
  
“Excellent! And the stench, unfortunately, it is the bi-product of the Chloroethyl Sulfide and Hydrochloric Acid. More commonly known as mustard gas, dreadful stuff.”  
  
He then noted through his steaming lenses, Leroy's good eye had begun to water. So, looking back to make sure everything was under control, he ushered him back out into the corridor.  
Once there, he closed the door behind them and took off the mask, and felt instant relief from its rubbery confines. Aided by a welcomed cooling breeze, that caressed his sweat-soaked skin. That appeared to be coming from an open window somewhere down the theatre's corridor. He then took in a lungful of that fresh air, trying to clear his nostrils of the pungent sulphurous odour that he could still detect clung to his clothes and hair. 

“Sorry about that.” - he coughed out. “I’ll endeavour to put up a sign next time.”  
  
They were in the lower levels of the Grand theatre, and he had been granted use of its kitchen to carry on with his investigations into finding new potent weapons to vanquish the increasing undead threat outside.   
He was thrilled to be able to indulge in his love of the botanical sciences and preached to any who would listen about the fascinating dangers and benefits of flora and fauna.  
Sadly, only Mr Jenkins had taken an avid interest in his, ‘mad science’, as the others called it.  
But despite his outer appearance, within the young man was a keen mind, that was quick to learn, and he was already able to identify several useful herbs for remedies and tinctures.  
With his predilection for mishaps, Aubrey thought common cures and salves were a good starting point.

He was then about to grab a handkerchief from his pocket when he saw that Leroy was about to rub his irritated eye with his hooked hand.  
Once again Aubrey quickly intervenes in an impending disaster and grabs the young man's prosthetic.  
  
“Ahh! Remember the rhyme master Jenkins?”  
  
“Erm...left ya lose, right is right?”  
  
“Correct.”  
  
Leroy then rubbed his eye with his right hand, as instructed. Followed by, much to Aubrey's disgust, blowing his nose on his sleeve.  
He tries to ignore this action and Instead concentrates on retrieving the handkerchief from his pocket, and once acquired wipes the sweat from his brow.  
  
After Leroy had finished vacating his nose, he then enquired in a genuinely interested tone. “So, what do you ya need all that stuff for?”  
  
Aubrey beamed, so glad that he had someone he could share his enthusiasm with.  
  
“Well, during my research I realised that Sewer beasts, the werewolf type creatures. Have quite a few traits in common with the domesticated dog, or wolf.  
Yes, they are undead creatures, but also have a highly sensitive sense of smell.  
Following this path, I utilized my chemist degree. My time at Cambridge I might add finally has come to some use. And I am in the process of trying to create a sulphurous combustible projectile.”  
  
Leroy tilts his head to one side, brow creased in confusion. Then the light of comprehension slowly dawns, in that one watery green eye of his.  
  
“Oh, ya created a stink bomb!”  
  
Having reduced two nights' work into such a vulgar term actually hurt Aubrey's sense of achievement. But for the young man's sake, he relented in going off on a tirade about the vital differences between his device and some childish prank projectile.  
  
“Yes, a stink bomb. That once perfected, should adhere to its target and can then be ignited.  
Not only confounding the senses of the beast but dealing with the undead aspect as well, by incineration.”  
  
“Wow, that's really good!” - He gasped, eyebrows raised in excitement. “Can I have one when you are done?”

“Good god! N…” - Leroy's face took on the countenance of a kicked puppy, and Aubrey quickly added. “I mean, we'll see.”

On hearing that, the sparkle immediately returned to Leroy's eye, and he gave a gap-toothed grin. That look, made Aubrey fill with warmth inside, and he realised then just how fond he had gotten off the poor maimed young man.   
  
“Now, have you seen Mr McCullum? I need to inform him of my progress.”

Leroy's smile then dropped suddenly, and he shook his head. “Boss is out, paying respects to Simpson's family. Handing over personal effects and stuff.”  
  
“Oh, no.” - Aubrey sighs. “Not another one. That's three new recruits we have lost in only the span of a week!”

Leroy then begins to chew his bottom lip. A sure sign he was about to broach a topic he wasn't comfortable with.  
Then he said in a low tone. “Ya know it’s that leech doctor that's done it, right?”

Aubrey nods, mirroring Leroys' expression of concern.  
“Yes, I can no longer deny the evidence of my own eyes. He needs to be stopped.”  
  
He then looks up and down the lamp-lit corridor and continues on in a conspiratorial whisper.  
“Master Jenkins, I need to confide in you. What I am about to say must not be repeated, do you understand?”  
  
The lad nods his head vigorously, then crosses his heart with his hooked hand.  
“I swear on mi dead mams grave.” - He then leans in to better hear his words.  
  
“Mr McCullum has handed over one of our most holy relics to the devil doctor; The blood of King Arthur.”  
  
Leroy's eyebrows shoot up at this statement. “Really! Why would he do that?”  
  
Aubrey looks around again, then listens for a moment for any sign of movement, before continuing on.  
“He said he gave it to the vampire to study. To get his professional opinion.  
At first, it was only a few drops, but he has yet to return the entire relic to me after taking it from me two nights ago.”

“Do you think he's handed over the whole lot?”

“Yes, and the worst of it is, I strongly believe our leader is in fact under the sway of that foul beast. Why else would he order us not to engage him in combat?  
I know as part of our induction, we are taught these creatures can affect our minds. And we are trained in ways to withstand such tricks.  
But if Doctor Reid is as powerful as the reports state. Then I do fear for our leaders' sense of self. Are his actions of late truly his own, one has to wonder?  
What if he was commanded to hand over the very item that would help us become as strong as any vampire? And now that we are weakened, he is picking us off one by one?”

Leroy's face pales listening to his words, and he begins to look left and right at every shadow as if expecting the vampire doctor to emerge from their depths any second.

“Oh, f-f-f-feckin hell!”

“I could not have expressed it so succinctly myself, master Jenkins.”

“W-w-w-what are we gonna d-d-d-do?”

The poor lad's nervous affliction was worsening by the second, and he saw no need to destress him further, Aubrey though.  
He had already burdened him too much with his concerns, but he had to tell someone. A paranoid part of him wanting at least someone to know his fears. Just in case one night he vanished from the face of the earth.  
He also still had an envelope with Arthurs desiccated blood in it.  
It was safely locked away, in a box, under his bed, in his room. And he was now glad he did not decide to take it two nights ago.  
But back then, he had acquired it for selfish reasons, now he had to see if it actually worked; the very survival of the guard depended on it.   
The problem was, was it actually Arthurs blood?  
The only blood specialist was a vampire; the enemy. And their leader was under the beast's sway.  
He could not risk informing him of his intent. Nor seeking out other external sources, for fear that either ‘person’ would find out what he was up to and stop him.  
No, he had to make the ultimate sacrifice. He had to test the relic on himself, there was no other option he conceded.

Whilst he pondered his fate, Leroy looked up at him. He could tell he was trying to read his thoughts through his expressions on his face. That was surely displaying a wave of conflicting emotions, right then.  
He opted to reassure the young man by patting him on the shoulder, and trying to muster a believable smile.

“It’s going to be alright.” - He wished he believed that fact.

Then as if trying to convince not only the lad but himself. He says. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one.”  
  
Leroy cocks his head in confusion again.  
  
Aubrey sighs once more and drops the false mask of optimism.  
“I need to conduct a very important experiment. One, that if it is fruitful could bring great benefit to the cause, but it is not without risk.” 

He then waves a hand behind him at the kitchen door.  
“I will clean up here. Then, can you make sure I am not disturbed downstairs, no matter what you hear?”  
  
He watches Leroy's eyebrows crease with worry, and with a troubled note ask. “You’re not gonna do s-s-s-something silly are you?  
I d-d-don't want ta see ya get hurt. You’ve already been acting weird lately. Mr McKenzie says y-y-y-you have the french disease.”  
  
Aubrey actually splutters, as a rush of words stampede from his brain and try to get collectively out of his mouth at once. “I do not have the bally french disease! That man!   
I will have you know, I have seen him procure a salve for groinal distress! And, I am horrifically well acquainted with that man's soiled underclothes!.   
I also know he has a problem in that department because I am well acquainted with the apothecary he frequents, on a regular basis I might add!”

He was suddenly flushed with embarrassment, waving a finger in righteous indignation. But stopped the defence of his sensibilities when he noted the lad was sniggering.  
It was actually nice to see the tension that had fogged up the corridor, like a looming cloud of doom, dissipate at such a simple, sadly not heard often sound. And he couldn't help giving a short huff of laughter too.

“Well Master Jenkins, as The Bard did say. Once more into the breach!” - He said with mock joviality.

But Leroy wasn’t buying any of it, and his voice, when it came out, was back laced with concern. “Stay safe.”

“I shall try my utmost Master Jenkins.”

He was glad he had to put back on the gasmask before re-entering the kitchen. It gave him an excuse to look away from that concerned face and to hide his own increasing anxiety.

 _Priwen must prevail!_ he thought.   
  
****************************************

  
Aubrey double-checked the door to the cellar was locked for the fifth time, before solemnly going over to his workbench.  
He had tidied away all non-essential documents and laid out on the desk everything he would need to record his experiment. His journal, a two-gram measurement of the desiccated blood from his pilfered stash. A vial of water to dissolve it in, and various known antidotes; should the blood, in fact, turn out to be a deadly poison.  
  
He then began to pace, trying to walk off his increasing anxiety, and took out Percy's locket from beneath his shirt and began rubbing its gold surface between his fingers as he contemplated his next actions.  
He felt sick to the stomach and even thought about taking some of his tonic to steady his nerves. But then thought better of that action, as he did not want to pollute any results.  
So, having nothing else to do but take a deep breath. He strode with purpose to his desk and took up his pencil and made his first entry.  
  
_31st October 1918 - 11:56pm._

_I now no longer have a choice, I can not back out. I will use myself as the subject of this experiment. All other avenues are now closed to me, and time is of the essence._

He wipes a hand through his hair thinking. I must put aside my selfish fears.  
I need to do this because everything I have fought for is at stake. They are depending on me. I must be brave.  
But as much as he wants to be courageous, he notes his body betrays him as his hand trembled slightly as he takes up the sachet of powdered blood, and tips it into the vial of water.   
He then stirs the contents together with a glass rod and watches as the murky water slowly turns from a dark rust-brown to a deep crimson.  
When he takes out the rod he’s mindful not to waste a drop, and taps it delicately on the edge of the vial. The action is slower than it needs to be, as he can’t stop trying to think was there an avenue he had not explored?  
Was this really the only choice he had left?  
Was he ready to die for this cause, should the worst possible outcome occur? And the brave man he knew he was inside whispered. _Yes._

It was the equivalent of only two drops of blood once rehydrated. But the vibrancy of the colour change from such a small amount astounded him.  
As he held the vial up to a nearby oil lamp, he couldn't help thinking how macabrely beautiful it was. It glimmered like an aged wine; the red light reminiscent of a warning lamp.  
His subconscious probably labelled it as such, reminding him of the possible danger that lay ahead. For all, he knew he could be about to take a medieval suicide draft.  
But no herb he had encountered could create such a vivid blood red.  
  
“Well Arthur, will you see me worthy of being one of your knights I wonder, and imbue me with the strength to defend your guards of priwen?”  
He then chuffs out a mirthless laugh. - “Or will I spend the next few hours with my head over a toilet bowl wishing I were dead?”  
  
He then takes in another deep breath, glances at the locked door once more; then before he can convince himself otherwise, swiftly downs the vial.  
Instantly he grimaces at the acrid taste on his tongue and quickly goes over to his journal to make another entry before anything untoward happened.  
  
_11:58 pm_ _  
_  
_Consumed 10cl of A.B Formula. It had a salty, bitter taste. It stings the tongue and was warm in the gullet. Almost soothing. I can feel heat running strongly through my veins._ _  
_ _There is a slight feeling of euphoria. Lightheadedness. No noticeable behavioural differences._

He then puts down his pencil and tries to concentrate more on his body's internal workings.  
If it were a poison, he needed to recognise the first stages as soon as possible.  
But apart from feeling an onset of a slight narcotic high, which he was now well acquainted with. Nothing else seemed to be amiss.  
Please don't let this be for nought, he thought. Well, there was no going back now the dice was cast. I…was it getting warmer in here he thought? 

**_PAIN -_ ** “My God! what's this?” he suddenly cried, as he felt his heart skip a beat. 

But this was no ordinary palpitation. It was a crushing pain radiating out from his chest, as if his heart were trying to break free of his rib cage, bashing against its bone bars.  
It caused him to cry out and hold his chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, popping buttons in the process. The organ was pounding so hard he could feel it thudding against the palms of his hands.  
  
“Aargh!” - he cried out in agony. “What have I done!?”  
  
The pain was so intolerable it was making it hard for him to draw in any breath. Then the reverse suddenly happened as he found himself panting like a dog.  
He felt a sensation like liquid fire surged through his veins, then an almost animalistic urge took hold to either run in fear from some unseen impending horror, or stand and fight.   
But as there was no assailant to direct this surging power at, all he could do was clench his teeth and ball his hands into fists.

He tried desperately to get control of his breathing, that was coming out short and sharp as if he were running for his life. And again there was that mounting feeling, an urgency to strike out, to try to expel this ever-increasing build-up of energy.   
He looked around for something to vent upon and grabbed hold of his desk chair. And with a snarl smashed it repeatedly against the nearby stone wall.  
The base instantly splintered from the top, but still, Aubrey brought it down again, and again against the wall until only two pieces of wood remained in his white-knuckled hands.  
With a growl of frustration, he then threw these fragments over to the other side of the room, offended at how pathetically brittle they were.  
  
“I need something else.” - he panted out.

He needed something worthy of his wrath…he…he was going to faint.   
He was burning up from the inside and sweat had started to run freely down his face. Think...think Aubrey, your no neanderthal. What drugs cause these effects...think, before you have a bloody heart attack!

He staggered over to his workbench and with a trembling hand wiped the stinging sweat from his eyes.  
“P-p-palpitations...increase in temperature...think!...Aconitum napellus!” - he panted out.

He tried to find the antidote for Monkshood, but the labels were all a blur, their words hazing into one another in the orange glow of the lamp's lights. And that damn bright light he realised was irritated his eyes, causing him to squint.  
With another snarl of frustration at his inability to perform such a simple task, he swept all the tables contents to the floor.  
Vials and jars impacted with the stone flags with an almighty crash. Sending glass shards, powders and liquids all over the room.  
He instantly regretted that stupid action and turned to see if he could salvage anything before it was too late.

But as he crunched over the debris he realised his breathing had begun to calm down. His heart was still racing to such an extent it thudded in his ears. But to his relief, he was no longer feeling like he was going to pass out.  
In fact, now the red fog that had been claiming his senses seemed to be dissipating, he felt fine. In Fact better than fine. He felt so invigorated like he could take on the world.  
He had just faced down death and been triumphant, would any of those numbskulls upstairs dare to have taken the same risk pondered? Of course not!  
  
But he still had this burning need to vent out his frustrations on something. To run. To fight. “To get out of this bloody cellar!” - he yelled.

His neck then gave a loud crack as he tried to roll the tension out of his shoulder and then thought. To hell, with this, I deserve a night off!  
He was through being a soft gentleman. It was his turn to be the wolf. And woe betides anyone who dares cross his path tonight.  
Wait, were those his thoughts? It didn't sound like him, and yet it did.

He then crunched over to his washstand. Having a sudden need to look in the mirror, that hung on the wall above it.  
No physical outward changes had occurred, but he felt so much more virile. His body practically thrummed with so much power begging to be unleashed it gave him shivers.  
The only eerie change that appeared to have taken place was his eyes. The whites were bloodshot, no doubt due to his increased heart rate. But the irises had a curious shine to them, making his dull green eyes shimmer like emeralds.  
They were the eyes that belonged to a creature of the night hours, a wild animal ready to hunt. He smiled at that thought and resisted the urge to howl.  
His posture was different too, he noted. He stood tall, proud. This man in the mirror was no longer cowed by the world's tragedies.  
  
“So you're the man inside of me, good evening Mr Jones.” - His voice came out deep and coarse, strained from all that yelling, he liked it.

Quickly he washed and changed into the only suit he had. It was the one he had arrived at the guard of priwen in all those months ago. Shell shocked and so afraid.  
How pathetic he thought. At least he had the common sense to buy another silk shirt. Skal blood stains are a devil to shift and that old one was marinated in it.  
There was the briefest of moments where his thoughts threatened to turn to melancholy. But Mr Jones was having none of it and just grunted those dark images away. Instead of replacing them with his own new bestial desires, to rend, pummel and beat down. God, he was so angry!

He took out his pocket watch and noted the hour was late, but then had a wicked idea. One Aubrey would never approve of. Wait, did he just refer to himself in the third person?  
He shrugged, now was not the time for rational thinking now was the time to act.  
He had kept abreast of social engagements in the papers, envying from afar how the upper class still carried on their elegant soirees, ignorant of the death and decay only yards from their gilded gates.  
Wouldn't it be just scandalous if he were to drop by such an event, and if any of those upper-class twits were to lay a hand on him, well… His reflection gave a devilish grin at that unfinished thought.

He would have to travel on foot to the west end, as no trap would collect in this area at this time of night he pondered. A part of him relished the idea of running into a Skal, right now he felt like he could tear it apart with his very hands.  
He then set his top hat in place and gave himself a once over in the mirror, and growled out.

“Well Mr Jones, let's go throw the cat amongst those puffed-up pigeons.”   
  
  
  
He's not surprised when he opens the door to see Jenkins sitting on the stone steps leading to the cellar. But doesn't even give him the time of night as he breezes on by. He didn't have to explain himself to him, he thought.  
Instead, he growls over his shoulder. “Why am I not surprised to see you there spying on me like a good little boy.”

“No, I was worried about you. You were yelling sounded like you were in pain. Are you ok? - His query was filled with concern.  
  
“I've never felt better.” - And that was the honest truth.  
  
The young man's brows crease with concern as Aubrey stomps passed him and he quickly scrambles to his feet and begins following him up the stairs to the ground level.  
  
"Aubrey, wait!"

Aubrey finds himself grinding his teeth, trying so hard to keep this rage inside under control. Didn't he realise he just wanted to get out of here? He just wanted a moment's peace in the open air.  
  
"Aubrey! "  
  
The child was like an annoying fly! And he can't stop himself snapping out. “MR!” 

“What?”

He comes to a halt so abruptly and spins in the same movement that the lad can't stop himself colliding into him.  
Then like he's hit a hot plate Leroy back peddles, arms raised. As Aubrey leans into his worried face.

“My title is Mr Jones, please use it.”

The lad just nods and looks like he's about to ask another annoying question, when he stops mouth agape, just staring at Aubrey's face. His lip begins to tremble as his watery green eye flicks from Aubreys left then to his right.  
He then swallows nervously and stammers out.  
  
“W-w-w-what's wrong wi your eyes?”

Aubrey really was losing his patience and spins back on his heels thumping open the ground floor doors with such force the door handles crunched into the plaster walls at either side.  
  
He then sighs out. “It’s part of the experiment I told you about. Now, is it not way past your bedtime Leroy?”

“Leroy?”  
  
Aubrey could see the exit doors only a few yards ahead, the rest of the guardsmen were absent on this level. Either asleep or out on a shift. There was no one to stop his break for freedom.  
  
“It’s p-p-p-past curfew, ya can't go out alone!”  
  
Again he halted, spinning, fist raised to swat at this annoying fly and yelled. “Who are you, my father!”

Aubrey watches as the boy skids to a halt once more and this time cringes, hands raised in a pathetic attempt to stop the incoming blow.  
But the hit doesn't come. He's breathing hard again, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw hurts. And glances from the lads frightened face to his white-knuckled fist as if it belongs to someone else.  
Was he really going to strike Leroy? Like father, like son?  
When t he young man tentatively lowers his hands it breaks Aubrey's heart to see his little face flushed and his good eye brimming with tears.  
All he can do is croak out through a throat he now realises is incredibly parched. “I'm sorry, I’m not myself.”  
  
The lad then scurries around in front of him blocking his path to the exit his hands held in front of him imploringly.

"P-p-p-please Aubrey, you're not thinking straight!"

He was right, this burning need to act was driving him insane. If he could just understand what he was doing was for the good of all of them. And so he ground out. “Get out of my way Leroy.”

"N-n-n no! If you go out there alone your gonna get hurt!."

This pathetic, maimed child was worried he would get hurt. How dare he, he thought. The blood of the king began to boil in his veins demanding action.  
  
“Why would I be more susceptible to harm hmm? Oh, wait I know. It's because its feeble old Aubrey, the resident book worm!”  
He was in the lad's face again now, practically frothing at the mouth. “Would you say the same to that bullhead McKenzie? Or our glorious entranced leader I wonder hmm? Don't answer that, I don't have all night! Just move!”  
  
He shoves the lad out of the way with such unintended force he topples over hitting the carpeted floor with a thud.  
With a brief flicker of guilt, he quickly glances back to make sure no serious harm has been done, then wrenches open the outdoors and marches off into the night.  
  
  
*****************************************

Being woken by a metal hook rapping on his forehead did not set McKenzie in a good mood. Swatting the offending object away he grumbled out into the darkness. “Tha, fuck?”

What he got back was splutters, stutters and a bunch of syllables that only a woodpecker on cocaine would understand.

“Leroy?... Hold on, hold on!”

Yawning he reached across to his nightstand and turned up the oil lamp. Then squinting through bleary eyes he took in the jittering lad before him. Who even now was still trying to splutter out an explanation for his actions.  
He’d been crying and that instantly made McKenzie sit bolt upright and gently grab the trembling lad by his shoulders.

“Hey, hey. Will ya fookin calm down lad. Ya know I can't understand ya when ya like this. Now just take deep breaths and just nod or shake your head. Is there a fire?”

The lad shakes his head frantically.

“Ok, has someone died?”

Again he shakes his head.

“Right, now, take another deep breath in, and out, and start again. Slowly.”

Jenkins nods, and breaths in and out as advised, then swallows trying to get his tongue to obey his wanted use of it.

“M-m-m-mr... J-j-j-jones.”

McKenzie nods encouragement, and cant help groan inside. What has that posh prick done now he thought.

“His eyes...s-s-s-sir. His eyes w-w-w-were wrong.”  
  
“What do ya mean his eyes were wrong. In what way?  
Ya know he's been drugged up to tha bollocks lately. McCullum's had a word.  
So what do ya mean? Did they look like two pissholes in tha snow? Or blown wide like someone had kicked him in the nads?”  
Which he thought, is exactly what he is going to do to him when he next sees him for getting the poor lady all worked up like this.

“No, they were...w-w-w-wrong. Shiny like a c-c-c-cats.”  
  
“What?” - What shit has he taken now he wondered?

With a sigh of frustration, he grabs his boots from under the bed and starts to put them on.  
He had no need to get dressed after such a long day shift, and had collapsed unconscious as soon as his head hit the pillow. Lucky he thought.  
  
“Right, where is he?”  
  
“He's gone out.”

“Out?” - He looked around the barracks room, noting the rest of it was still shrouded in the darkness of night.  
  
“What time is it?” He wasn't expecting an answer from the lad, he knew he couldn't tell the time and didn't have a watch. It was more a query voiced out loud as he rummaged in his breast pocket for own pocket watch.  
Squinting he held it up to the lamp and read a quarter to one in the morning. He then groaned. “Fuck me, its the middle of the bleedin night. Where's he gone?”  
  
“D-d-d-don't know. He said he was just off out. B-b-b-but he was dressed up all f-f-f-fancy.”  
  
“Eh? In his toff gear?”

The lad nods.  
  
“Please tell me he took some weapons with him? Even off his trolley he knows how dangerous it is out there. Never Mind being alone and unharmed.”

Leroy's good eye began to water in response to the question and he mumbled out.  
“I’m s-s-s-sorry sir. I tried to s-s-s-stop him. And no, I c-c-c-couldn't see anything. But he did have his big fancy coat on. M-m-m-maybe he had a gun under it?”

“Oh for fuck sake! Where's tha boss?”

“S-s-s still out.”

McKenzie just hummed at that answer. McCullum had been spending for too much time out on his own too for his liking. And there was always something about him of late that gave him the creeps, he just couldn't put his finger on it.  
Whilst he thought through his next actions, he pulled on his jacket from a nearby locker and started stuffing ammunition and weapons in various pockets and holsters.  
He definitely wasn't going to wander out there unharmed.  
He ended, equipping himself by fishing out his cigarettes and sticking one in his mouth, then struck a match off his grizzled chin and lit it.   
He breathed in the soothing smoke and instantly felt energized when the nicotine hit his bloodstream. He then looked over at the young rookie who was now chewing on his lip and fidgeting with nervous energy hopping from one foot to the other.  
With one of his big calloused hands, he ruffled the lad's hair, then nodded indicating to him he had done the right thing coming to him.  
Then with the cigarette still clamped between his teeth, he ran for the exit. 

He opened the outer doors just as thunder rumbled across the pitch-black sky. It Instantly followed by a torrential downpour, that bounced off the cobbles.  
Then, a biting cold autumn wind blew the rain in his face and his cigarette became an instant soggy dog end.

“Oh, fuckin grand!” - he grumbled, spitting out the wet paper. “I'm gonna kill him.”

He then put his fingers in his mouth and barked out a series of codes requesting assistance from scouts in the area, asking if they had seen Jones, or a posh gent running around.  
Partially smothered by the storm, the whistle could be heard echoing out amongst the tenements passed on from group to group.  
He waited, grumbling and shivering in the draft, and even contemplated going back inside and lighting another fag, when there came a faint reply, like distant bird song.  
  
His scarred face creased in confusion and he said to himself. “He’s fucking where?...how the hell?”  
He blasts out for conformation of the last known location, just to make sure like Chinese whispers something hadn't been lost in the code. But nope, it was right.

“Fuck me.” he growled out. Then turning up his collar he charged out into the night.  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Note: Some words and phrases lifted from Jekyll & Hyde the musical - because it fitted too perfectly with Aubrey's situation not to use.  
> Also please see attached some amazing art that inspired this fic by anelliardo.tumblr.com  
> Also, find attached a link to a brilliant animatic by S.K Michels https://youtu.be/ORONYahaRQY Transformation. That also inspired me.  
> I don’t have a plot, I just get inspired by the music I'm listening to. I never intend for AJ to go down this route, but it looks like my two OC’s Dylan Jackal/Hyde and AJ will cross paths in the near future.  
> His story is in my other series - The Story of Mr Hyde, which tells the tale of Mary Reids husband Dylan, who did not die during the war but was turned into a Skal. All he want's to do is get back home to his wife...  
> Which one will be the true monster in the end I wonder?


End file.
